Knowing the trees have something to say,
beyond the scattering of mumbling leaves,
I am standing ready, for an earthly embrace,
sure of my birthing, from dust to dust.
Oh touch and heal, of numbness gone and heard
lay me down beneath the weight of heavy thunder
caress my skin with the pounding of rain, just storm
and let the tide pull me under and under.
I’ve got too many, the masks to hide
too much the scars, so ugly and worn
ease their way into humility, the proud soul denies it
until the wind is moving against the old wounds
and freedom there finds it.